calvin's story

Pages

11.24.2012

idiot. savant.

At first, before the epilepsy, when I’d tell people about my
toddler son’s gross developmental delays—the fact that he couldn’t hold
his
head up until he was almost a year, couldn’t crawl until he was two (and
even so,
has never crawled very well) the fact that he utters no words, the fact
that he
can’t walk without falling and thus needs a spotter—they’d say things
like,
“oh, he’ll catch up,” or “you know, I heard about this boy who didn’t
say ‘mama’ until he was eight but he could play Beethoven compositions
on the
piano after only hearing them once.” Somehow I knew that wouldn’t look
anything
like Calvin’s future, and though they meant well, their comments only
served to
belittle and exacerbate a difficult and heartbreaking situation. And
then came the relentless seizures, and the drugs—mountains of them—and
Calvin's future, his development, seems more bleak with each passing
year.

I first heard of a man named William Sidis on the car radio.
Born in Manhattan in 1898 to Jewish Ukrainian immigrants, he became a child
prodigy. At the age of eighteen months he could read the New York Times and had
reportedly taught himself eight languages in as many years, in addition
to creating an entire language of his own. He was ready to enroll at Harvard when
he was nine but the university wouldn’t admitted him until the age of eleven, citing
that he was just a child. And by twelve William Sidis was lecturing the Harvard
Mathematical Club on four-dimensional bodies.

Sidis was a whiz at math. It is thought that he had an I.Q. fifty
to one hundred points higher than Albert Einstein, that in fact he had one of
the highest intelligence quotients ever recorded. But he lived a life of
relative seclusion, estranged from his parents before dying at the age of 46
from a cerebral hemorrhage. I doubt, from what little I’ve read and with all
his celebrity at the time, that he was a very happy person.

It pains me to see that by the standard dictionary definition Calvin is an idiot, though perhaps
he might not have been if it weren't for the countless seizures that
batter his brain and the mind-numbing drugs meant to stop them. But if
Calvin was a child prodigy, a math wizard, a musical
savant like Mozart, a chess champion, a genius or had a photographic
memory like the
character in the film Rain Man,
it would be no consolation to me. It wouldn’t assuage the
rancor and suffering of his relentless seizures. I’m not even sure it
would
serve to make him happy. As it is, I’d give anything for Calvin to be
healthy—not
different—just healthy. I’d give anything not to have to stuff all of
these chemicals down his throat every morning and every night, which he
does
so dutifully, even when he doesn’t want to eat because the drugs upset
his
stomach and or suppress his appetite, especially of late.

So, no, Calvin can’t recite Bach or Chopin, can’t even plunk
out a tune on his little yellow plastic four key piano. He can’t make a mark
with a crayon much less scribe a simple equation on a big black chalkboard. He
can’t win at chess, beat the dealers in Vegas or tell us what day of the week
it was the day that we were born. And he can’t recite pi to 22,500 decimal places
like Daniel Tammet can. But Calvin can do what no other human being on this earth can do, which
is to love me in a way that is so utterly beyond words, no genius could come
close to describing, even if they tried.

Originally published 11.23.11.

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1 comment:

My son Calvin was born six weeks early with significant neurological problems of unknown origin. When he turned two he was diagnosed with epilepsy, which eclipsed all other adversity he'd encountered. No drug or dietary treatment has completely controlled his seizures. I write about the challenges we encounter, and the great perspective about the world we gain as a result. I post something several times weekly in an effort to increase epilepsy awareness, dispel the myths, promote understanding and inspire empathy, all in hope of a cure. I sometimes write about politics, racism and other social injustices.